The Phantom in the Pharmacy
by bwayfan25
Summary: Finals are over, and the gang looks forward to a quiet break before the next quarter begins. But after the pharmacist Velma works for is attacked, they find themselves embroiled in a mystery of money, medicine, and mayhem. No one is clear on who the phantom is or why they keep attacking, but they are all sure of one thing: the can vanish without a trace.
1. Chapter 1

And with that," Fred Jones announced as Daphne Blake stepped inside his apartment and dropped her school bag on the floor. "Is officially the end of finals week. Congratulations, gang. We did it."

"Wait, like I thought Velma was with you?" Shaggy Rogers asked as he struggled to stop his Great Dane Scooby Doo from jumping on Daphne.

"She was, but she had to go to work," Daphne said, her voice a little snootier than usual as he emphasized the word "work".

"Oh, yeah. I forgot she was doing that. Where is she again?" Fred asked. Daphne handed him her winter coat and he hung it on a nearby coat rack.

"Jackson's Pharmacy. It's in town, so it's a little ways from campus," Daphne said. "She loves it there, and I think if she had the chance, she'd stay there and never leave."

"Ah. Well I guess we can see her later. After all, we are all on winter break. Actually wait..." Fred thought for a moment. "We're not on break quite yet. There's one more thing we have to do..."

Shaggy and Daphne exchanged looks as Fred left for the kitchen. They waited for a moment, their brows furrowing. Just as Daphne got ready to call out to him, Fred returned, a bottle full of amber liquid in his hand.

"Like, no thanks man," Shaggy said, throwing up his hands as Fred went to pour him a glass of the whiskey. "Like, you know I stopped drinking after Danny died."

"Alright, alright. I understand. Daph?" Fred offered.

Daphne considered for a moment.

"Just a smidge. I drove here."

"Well, you're always welcome to stay," Fred said, raising an eyebrow at her. He winked, grinning as she blushed.

"Like get a room," Shaggy stated, rolling his eyes.

There was no use in saying anything though, as Fred's pale hand had intertwined with Daphne's dark one and they were slowly growing closer and closer to each other. By the time they were nose to nose, they did have a room to themselves... because Shaggy left.

* * *

"Good evening Mr. Jackson," Velma Dinkley greeted warmly as she opened the door to Jackson's Pharmacy. "I apologize if I'm a little late. The bus I normally catch got delayed, and I didn't want to be too late so I walked."

"Not to worry my dear, not to worry," a man's voice called from the back room of the store. "I'm just glad you made it at all. I hear there's a bad storm coming and I didn't want you to get stuck in it. Tea?"

An older man white snowy white hair walked backwards out of a door behind the counter, carrying a tray with a teapot and teacups along with a few small cookies.

"Yes, sir," Velma nodded, taking a seat on a stool at the counter. She stood her crutch up against the counter and stretched out her legs, or at least she stretched out her right leg and more or less straightened out the brace on her left.

Mr. Jackson poured them both a cup of tea, and pushed the plate of cookies towards Velma.

"So. What have you got for me today?" Mr. Jackson asked, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

Velma pulled out a small notebook from her coat pocket, and flipped to a page with the corner folded down.

"Mebaral."

Mr. Jackson waved it away.

"Oh Mebaral's an easy one. Methylphenobarbital. Used for sedation and seizures. It's been around for a long time. Come one, you've got something newer, don't you? I count on you to keep me on my toes with all these new drugs. Come on, I know you've got a new one in that little notebook of yours," Mr. Jackson nodded at the small book Velma held.

"Alright, let me see," she flipped a few pages. "Alright, how about pentazacine?"

"See? There you go," Mr. Jackson paused to think. "I can't say I've heard of that one. What does it do?"

"It is a non-narcotic analgesic. Released in July of 1967 after approval from the FDA," Velma read. She looked up at Mr. Jackson. "Narcotics are the ones that are… controlled. So if this is not a narcotic, then it's better…right?"

"Well, it is assumed to be. The reason drugs become controlled is because they pose some risk of danger but still have a medical use. Narcotics tend to have addictive potential, so, yes, if a non-narcotic could be used to treat pain and did so without the danger of death or addiction, it is better."

The phone behind the counter rang. Mr. Jackson raised a finger to Velma indicating that he wanted to continue the conversation, and then rose to answer the phone.

"Jackson's Pharmacy…yes, I see… Of course. Give me about forty-five minutes to an hour, and I'll bring that over to you. Yes, of course. Have a good night," Mr. Jackson scrawled a prescription out on a pad, and hung up the phone before turning back to Velma. "Looks like little Timmy Nesser has come down with a case of strep throat so I need to put together some penicillin for him. And he's only three, so I'll have to suspend it in liquid for him."

"Can I watch you make it?" Velma asked excitedly. Mr. Jackson smiled.

"Certainly. I'll bring it out here so you can watch. But you must go get the books and at least _pretend_ you're here to do what I hired you for," Mr. Jackson wagged a finger, giving Velma a mischievous smile. "Because I don't pay you to get chemistry lessons. Or, so it would seem I do…"

"Yes, of course, sir," Velma said, sliding off the stool. "And I told you, you don't have to pay me for the time I spend here not working."

"And I've told you it's no bother at all. I enjoy our conversations," Mr. Jackson chuckled. "You're keeping this old dog's mind sharp, I'll tell you. My wife and son have noticed. I keep up with the grandkids' conversations a bit better. I don't forget things as easily. Yes, your curiosity has helped me quite a bit."

Velma smiled shyly, and then went off to the right to the office to get the books. The door was unlocked as usual, and the books were just where she had left them the last two times she visited. She picked them up and turned to leave when she caught a glimpse of something outside the window.

The sky outside was dark, and the snow Mr. Jackson had mentioned had already begun to fall. Wind spiraled past the window pane in thick white clumps, some already sticking to the windowsill outside. The window looked out over part of the pharmacy parking lot, and had a good view of the town square. And there, in the bushes just past the square were a pair of glowing yellow eyes.

Velma closed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them again, the eyes were gone. She waited for one more moment, but they didn't show up again. Chalking it up to an overactive mind tired from constant studying, she turned and left for the counter.

Mr. Jackson had out a mortar and pestle along with a bottle of tablets and a few bottles of clear liquids. Velma returned to her seat at the counter in front of him, eager to watch his process. But just as he opened his mouth to explain the first step, there was a loud moan. They looked at each other, and then around. They were alone.

"Must be the wind," Mr. Jackson said with a shrug. "Nothing to worry about. So. Penicillin. Can you tell me who discovered penicillin?"

"Alexander Fleming," Velma replied. Mr. Jackson nodded, and held up the bottle of pills.

"Yes. He discovered it. However, he was not the first to…" Mr. Jackson's voice trailed off as the lights overheard flickered. He waved it away. "Don't mind that. They do that when the weather gets bad."

Velma glanced over at the windows at the front of the store. The snow was stilling falling at the same rate it was when she looked out the window in the office. The lights flickered again, and then went out, leaving Velma and Mr. Jackson with only a small amount of moonlight from the window for light.

"Not to worry. I've got a flashlight here somewhere," Mr. Jackson said.

Velma could hear him shuffling through some drawers. A light clicked on, and he raised the flashlight. It shone past Velma into the dark store.

"Dear…God…"

Mr. Jackson's flashlight fell to the floor. Velma turned.

A dark hulking figure was coming out of the shadows. It appeared to be wearing a long black hooded cloak. The only things that could be seen from under its cloak were glowing yellow eyes. The figure let out a deep moan, the same from earlier.

For a moment there was silence as the figure and Mr. Jackson stood off against each other.

"I will tell you for the last time," Mr. Jackson said in a low voice. "You are not welcome here."

The figure moaned again, and then lunged at Mr. Jackson, knocking him backwards. Velma slid off the stool, and tried to get to him, but she couldn't. Her skirt had gotten caught on a nail in the counter. She struggled to pull it loose, but every time she heard a crash from behind her, her heart raced faster and her hands got shakier.

Finally, she got it loose and turned back to the scene. Mr. Jackson was on the ground, fighting against the hooded figure. Tablets, display cases, and papers littered the floor. Mr. Jackson, who was not a young man by any means, was holding his own. He pushed the hooded figure to floor, and struggled to gain the upper hand. The figure let out a low moan again.

From under one cloak sleeve, the figure produced a handful of white powder. Blowing hard from some unseen mouth beneath their hood, the powder dispersed in the air. Mr. Jackson stopped for a moment, shocked, before collapsing to the side, unconscious.

The figure turned on Velma, who instinctively backed away. The figure took a slow step forward, as she took a slow step back. She could feel the wall behind her. The figure took another step forward, as Velma tried to back up further.

Her heart was beating so fast she could barely hear her own thoughts. Hundreds of options and half-formed plans swam through her head.

Run? She couldn't. Yell? No good, there was no one around. Fight? Fight.

She grabbed her crutch from next to the counter, and swung it hard. The figure, caught unaware, tried to side-step, and ran into the counter. Velma swung again, but lost her balance and hit the floor. The figure saw a moment of opportunity, and produced another handful of the white powder. They blew again.

Velma held her breath, but the force of the exhale was too strong; she couldn't stop it from getting to her. She continued to hold her breath as hard as she could, but she started to see lights in her field of vision. She couldn't hold it any longer.

With the powder still hanging in the air, she drew breath. Immediately, her muscles started to relax. Her glasses slid off her face. In the darkness, highlighted only by the lone beam of light from Mr. Jackson's fallen flashlight, she could see the blurred outline of the figure disappear into nothingness just before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Snow had begun to fall outside the window, but those within the walls of Fred's apartment did not seem to care. Shaggy and Scooby were building what appeared to be the Largest Sandwich in Northeast Ohio. Daphne and Fred, by now slightly past buzzed, danced forehead to forehead in the middle of the kitchen. Music from a small radio played softly in the background.

"And that was _Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In_ by The 5th Dimension," the announcer said over the radio. "I'm your host Hank Hinkler, and this is the Late Night Bite straight out of Cleveland, Ohio. And this is an extra special Late Night Bite as we are playing tunes straight through 2 am for all those college students who finished class today. That song is looking to finish up 1969 at number two on the Billboard Hot 100. Up next we've got the number one song... Wait. Hold on one second. It looks like we've got anews bulletin for our friends down in Coolsville, just south of Medina. It looks like residents around the downtown Coolsville area should be on alert as a robber is on the loose."

"Downtown? Like Velma works downtown," Shaggy said worriedly. He crossed the room, ignoring Daphne and Fred who had begun giggling madly. He turned the volume dial up on the radio.

"It seems that there are police and an ambulance on the scene."

"Like where is it? Come on. Like tell me where," Shaggy muttered.

"Um, man?" Fred said, breaking away from Daphne to look at Shaggy. "Man, the radio can't hear you."

"Like shut up Fred."

Fred looked taken aback for a moment, but Daphne draped an arm around his shoulders and he became distracted again.

"It appears that the robbery occurred at a local establishment called Jackson's Pharmacy. We can confirm the proprieter of the establishment, a Mr. Raymond Jackson, is on his way to Coolsville General Hospital. We will update you with more information as we get it," the announcer finished. "Now back to our regularly scheduled programming..."

"Like guys we gotta go," Shaggy said quickly, turning to the couple who had resumed their dancing.

"Go where?" Fred asked.

"To Jackson's Pharmacy. Like, it got robbed and Velma is there. We have to make sure she's okay."

"Who?" Daphne asked, tilting her head sideways and stumbling slightly as her view of the world changed.

"Velma. Like, our friend Velma."

"Oh... Velma," Daphne smiled. Then her face went serious as she looked around. "Where is Velma?"

"Like you two are useless," Shaggy shook his head and picked up his coat. " _I'm_ going to go make sure she's okay. Like you two stay here and like don't hurt yourselves. Scoob, like make sure they don't hurt themselves."

Scooby snapped into a salute. Daphne and Fred considered Shaggy as he slammed the door shut behind him but either didn't care or didn't understand what he meant, and returned to their dancing.

* * *

"Like wow," Shaggy muttered to himself as he pulled into the parking lot of Jackson's Pharmacy.

Two cop cars sat in the lot, their lights flashing. An ambulance was parked a short distance away, emergency technicians in the process of loading someone inside. Shaggy jumped down from the Mystery Machine's driver's seat and strained to see who it was.

"Hey pal, no reporters or civilians allowed in," a cop said, throwing a hand out to stop as Shaggy approached the front doors of the building.

"Like, I'm not- I'm here for my friend," Shaggy said. He stood on his tiptoes, trying to see past the cop into the store. "Like she was the other employee inside. I need to make sure she's okay."

"I'm sorry, but no one's allowed in. It's an active crime scene."

"Well, like I work with the police," Shaggy said quickly. "Like I help solve mysteries sometimes. Like the Danny Snyder murder? And that missing professor and that ship captain's ghost up at the lake and..."

"You work with the police, eh?" the cop considered him. "With what group? What's the name?"

"Uh..." Shaggy's brow furrowed. "Well, like we haven't really talked about a name..."

"See? I knew it," the cop laughed. "Get lost, kid."

The cop turned to go back inside. Shaggy thought for a moment about pushing his way in, but instead turned to go back to the van.

"Shaggy, right? Shaggy Rogers?" a voice asked from behind him. He turned to see another cop approaching him.

"Like, Officer Schwartz," Shaggy greeted nervously.

"I thought it was you. I didn't expect you'd be here, seeing as we haven't decided to contract you all out yet."

"Like sir I'm not here for that. My friend was inside when the robbery occured and like I'm just here to make sure she's okay."

Officer Schwartz considered for a moment, observing the scene as he did so.

"Well, we're not supposed to let anyone in... but seeing as we'll probably end up bringing you guys in anyway I don't think it would hurt," he shrugged, and stepped forward to talk to the two cops blocking the doors. After a moment, they stepped aside and allowed Shaggy and Office Schwartz entry.

The store was a wreck. It only had five short aisles, and every single one was littered with pills, bottles, contents of opened boxes of Band-Aids; like a tornado had passed through and threw everything from the shelves. The back of the store, which contained the pharmacy, looked no better. Papers were strewn all over the counters, and some kind of clear liquid oozed off the counter from an open bottle.

Shaggy tore himself away from observing the damage to scan for Velma. He could see nothing but cops jotting down notes and occasionally shifting something aside to get a better look at something else.

"It is in my opinion that you _must_ go to a hospital," a voice somewhere near the counter said. Shaggy stepped forward to get a look at the speaker.

"And I'm telling that I don't need to go to a hospital," Velma answered. "It's just a cut. I can clean it up at home."

She sat on the ground, legs out in front of her, as a man with a first aid kit knelt beside her.

"It's rather deep. It may require sutures," he insisted. "And there is evidence of swelling around your knee. There could be some kind of ligament damage or a something could be out of place. You really should get it checked out but a doctor-"

"I can treat it on my own thank you," Velma pushed back. The man shook his head and stood up.

"Whatever. Suit yourself," he muttered, picking up his kit and turning. He nodded curtly at Shaggy and walked away, leaving Velma alone on the floor.

"Shaggy," she said looking up and noticing him for the first time. "I-I wasn't expecting you."

"Like I heard about it on the radio and thought I should come make sure you were okay," he said, offering a hand to her. She steadied herself on the stool and stood up. "Like what happened?"

"We were sitting here having tea, when the phone rang and Mr. Jackson went to get stuff to mix up some medicine. Then there was this long moan and the lights went out and then this figure, this long cloaked figure came from nowhere and attacked Mr. Jackson. And then he blew this dust, some kind of powder, and Mr. Jackson fell over. And then it came for me and I tried to fight it, but I fell and it blew the dust on me too. I tried to hold my breath, but the dust sort of just hung there, and I had no choice but to breathe it in," Velma explained, her words traveling a mile a minute. "And they disappeared. Just... disappeared."

"Wow. Well, like let's get you home and then tomorrow we can come back and sort this all out," Shaggy said. He was about to turn to lead them out to the van, when he stopped.

Calling the gash on Velma's leg 'just a cut' was an understatement, to say the least. The metal of the brace appeared to have bent when she fell on it, and left a wide, deep cut across her thigh. And the man was correct, her knee had swelled some too, and given how Velma was leaning heavier on her crutch for support, she knew.

"Are you sure you don't want to go get that checked out?" Shaggy asked. "Like I can take you to the hospital if you don't want to ride in the ambulance."

"No," Velma said sternly. She took a deep breath. "I...I don't do hospitals. It's nothing. I'll take care of it later. I just want to go home and sleep. I know you all wanted to hang out tonight, but I don't feel up to it."

"Like it's totally fine. We understand. Really, we do," Shaggy said, kicking some of the debris out of the way to give them a clearer path to the door. "I'll let Daphne and Fred know."

"They... they aren't with you?" Velma asked as she followed Shaggy down one of the aisles towards the door. There was a hint of sadness in her voice.

"Um... no. Like... they weren't really in a... fit state," Shaggy muttered. He bent down to pick up a fallen shelf and move it to the side. A piece of paper fell out from under it as he shifted is sideways. He shuffled it aside, and continued forward.

"Oh."

Shaggy stopped just a few feet short of the door. Velma, who had been paying attention to the ground, bumped into him. She muttered a word of apology, and took a step back.

Three people blocked the exit. One man was wearing a winter coat over a pair of silk pajamas and slippers. The other two were cops who seemed to be arguing with him.

"I'm his son, _and_ I am his legal represenation. I have the right to observe the damage. You have to let me in," the man in pajamas demanded.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jackson, but our team is still collecting evidence. We cannot let anyone in until that it complete," the cop tipped his hat. "I'm sorry Bill. I really am."

The young Mr. Jackson threw his arms up in the air, exasperated, as the cops walked away. He turned to acknowledge the extent of the damage, and noticed Shaggy.

"What about him? He certainly doesn't look like a cop," Bill claimed. "You let _him_ in. And if you can let him in, then you can certainly let me in."

"He's here to pick up his friend, who was attacked at the same time as your father," Officer Schwartz said, joining the conversation. "They are on their way out."

"You didn't tell me another employee had been attacked," Bill stated solemnly. "You didn't tell me there was someone else here."

"Yeah. Uh," Officer Schwartz looked around for a moment, and then pointed at Velma. "Her."

Bill looked from Schwartz to Velma and back.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Velma Dinkley," Velma answered quietly.

"My father never mentioned you," Bill stated.

"He hired me about a month ago," Velma stared at her feet. "I do... I did the books."

"Well, it doesn't matter who you are," Bill sighed and turned back to Officer Schwartz. "Now I've got to draw up papers so she doesn't sue us. This is a nightmare."

Bill stalked out the door. Shaggy nodded at Velma, and they followed him out.

* * *

Though the ambulance had left, the parking lot was now fuller than before. Bill Jackson was standing huddled against the wind talking on his car phone. A few reporters had shown up, probably having heard the news on the radio and flocked down from Cleveland.

"There has to be an more reasonable explanation than a _ghost_ ," Bill said loudly into the phone. "No, that's what they told me. That's what the girl saw. I'm telling you, ma, that's what the police said."

"Did you say a ghost, sir?" one of the reporters said, approaching him. Bill waved him away. Several other reporters flocked over.

"Does the insurance plan cover ghost attacks?" Bill asked into the phone. "Well we should find that out, because the store's ruined."

The reporters crept closer to the lawyer, pulling notepads out of their pockets and bags. Within thirty seconds, Bill had to hang up the phone because the noise of the reporters was too loud.

"Uh, Shaggy?" Velma asked from behind him. "Are... are you coming?"

"Oh. Like yeah," Shaggy said, jerking back to reality.

He circled around to the driver's seat and climbed up. They pulled out onto the road and headed back towards the university campus.

"Shaggy?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you mean Daphne and Fred weren't in a fit state to come?" Velma asked quietly.

"They're drunk. I didn't want to have to be responsible for them so I told them to stay home," Shaggy sighed. "Like, if you would have told me three months ago that _I'd_ be the one looking after drunk people at a party, I'd have thought you were nuts."

Velma chuckled weakly.

"Good. I was worried they just didn't want to come."

"Why wouldn't they have wanted to come?"

Velma didn't answer. Instead, she just stared out the window.

"Mr. Jackson's son thinks I'm crazy," she mumbled, her chin in her hand. "I could hear him talking in his phone."

"He doesn't think you're crazy," Shaggy reassured, though he wasn't quite sure.

"He thinks I made it up. But I know what I saw."

"I believe you. Like, given what we've faced together already, there's no reason to believe that you didn't see a ghost. We just... like we have to solve it. That's all. Don't worry yourself about it. We'll get them. And like we'll avenge Mr. Jackson."

"Mr. Jackson isn't dead," Velma corrected. "They said he's just... in a coma."

"Oh. Well, like we'll... well we'll still avenge him. Even if he isn't dead."

Velma continued to stare out of the window. The snow was growing stronger and stronger with every passing second. Not much could be seen beyond thw snow, and certainly nothing out in the dark.

She thought about the phantom. The long billowing cloak. The hood. The glowing yellow eyes. She shook her head, trying to shake the image from her mind.

Good thing she looked away, or else the eyes in the bushes would have reminded her again.


	3. Chapter 3

A light came on from somewhere overhead. Fred awoke with a start. Blinking rapidly, partly due to the light and partly due to the massive headache he was experiencing, he sat up. Next to him, Daphne started to wake too.

"What did we do last night?" Fred said slowly, rubbing his eyes.

"Drank. That's what we did," Daphne mumbled, her eyes still closed. "But how much? My God. How much did we drink?"

"Well. The bottle was nearly full when we started," Fred said. He reached for the bottle sitting on his bedside table, and shook it. "So I'd say… all of it. We drank all of it."

"Stop talking so loud," Daphne said, draping her arm over her face to block out the light. "You're practically yelling."

"Good morning, sunshines," Shaggy said from the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" Fred muttered, squinting as he turned on his bedside lamp.

"Well, like last night I took Velma home and by the time I got back, you guys had already gone upstairs, so I picked up Scoob, borrowed your keys to lock the door, and like came back this morning. Here's these back by the way," Shaggy tossed the keys towards Fred. They bounced off his forehead and fell into his lap. "Like sorry man."

"Where is Velma? She okay?" Fred asked, rubbing his forehead from where the keys hit him.

"Like I think so. She had a pretty bad cut but said she'd take care of it. She's probably still asleep."

Fred looked at the alarm clock on his table.

"Like no doubt. It's seven am. Why are you here so early?"

"Well like one, I needed to make sure you two weren't dead," Shaggy raised an eyebrow. "And like two, Officer Schwartz called me this morning. They want us to look into the pharmacy case. And like, seeing the state of the store last night, it's not going to be easy."

"Can we at least wait until daylight?" Daphne asked.

"No. So like get dressed and come on. Breakfast is waiting downstairs. Or at least it was. Like I can't guarantee Scoob didn't eat it."

Shaggy turned and pulled the door shut behind him. Fred and Daphne both laid down for a minute, grumbling, before simultaneously climbing out of bed. Their grumbling, interspersed with moans, groans, and cursing under their breath, continued all the way downstairs, through breakfast, and throughout the entire car ride to the pharmacy.

"Will you two please cut it out," Shaggy ordered as they climbed down from the Mystery Machine.

Immediately the grumbling ceased. The dirty looks, however, did not.

Shaggy led the trio and Scooby up to the door of the pharmacy. The door was locked.

"Well, I guess that's it then. We have to come back later," Fred said, clapping his hands together. "Oh well. Back to bed."

He turned, but Shaggy grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him back. He pulled something from a pocket. It was a set of keys. Fred muttered something under his breath, his eyes murderous, but he said nothing aloud. Instead he just followed Shaggy through the unlocked door and into the store.

It was freezing. The power had not been turned back on since the attack had occurred, and the temperature had dropped significantly overnight because of the snow.

"Wow. Something certainly did a number on this place," Daphne observed as she walked towards the nearest aisle. "What did Velma say she saw?"

"Like a phantom. She said it came from... uh, from over here and came at them. And they were back there, and like the phantom attacked Mr. Jackson and then came for her. I found her over there, and I could tell she hadn't gone very far from where she started."

"Is she okay?"

"Eh, like she had a good sized cut on her leg, but she kept saying she was fine."

"Remind me to go check on her when we're done," Daphne muttered to Fred.

Shaggy led them back to where he found Velma, careful not to step on anything that had fallen to the floor.

"Hey Freddie look," Daphne whispered, smiling. She pointed at the clear solid goo all over the pharmacy counter. "Ectoplasm."

"Come on Daph. You're an adult," Fred muttered. Daphne's smile faltered. Fred smirked micheviously. "It's ghost guts."

Fred and Daphne started giggling to themselves.

" _Ahem_."

Shaggy crossed his arms and gave them a look. Fred and Daphne looked down.

"Sorry," they said together.

"What is it though?" Daphne asked, taking a step towards it. "Really?"

"Glycerol," Fred read from the bottle.

"What's glycerol?"

"Glycerin used to suspend medication in liquid," a voice answered from a room behind the counter. All three of them jumped, as did Scooby, who ended up in Shaggy's arms.

A woman entered from the room to the back of the counter. She was in her early thirties, and carried a tray full of compounding equipment in her gloved hands. Her coat was zipped nearly to her chin and she still wore her earmuffs.

"Like who are you?" Shaggy asked as he put his dog back on the ground.

"Cordelia Sachs."

"And what are you doing here?" Fred continued.

"I"m working. Now if you'll excuse me," Cordelia snatched the bottle out of Fred's hand. "I awoke to a very irate phone call from the parents of three-year-old Timmy Nesser, who is very sick. Apparently Timmy's doctor called in a medication for him last night that Mr. Jackson never got around to doing. So now I'm here at the break of dawn trying to fix his mistakes."

"He probably didn't get it done because he got attacked," Daphne said slowly, looking back to Fred and Shaggy.

"Huh. Well it doesn't really matter does it, seeing as I was going to be the one who had to do it in the end anyways," Cordelia shurgged. She counted a few pills on a tray and dumped them into a mortar. She picked up the pestle beside it and started grinding the tablets into powder.

"Like are you one of the other pharmacists?" Shaggy asked, unconsciously taking a step back from the small woman who was now going after the tablets as if they had insulted her mother.

"No I'm not because the University of Coolsville College of Pharmacy does not admit women to their program," she hissed, her eyes focused on the task at hand. "I am a pharmacy assistant. I assist Mr. Jackson in running the pharmacy."

"Are there other pharmacists or pharmacy assistants who work here?"

"No. I am the only one. Not many pharmacies have assistants. Mr. Jackson only hired me a few years ago when his memory started to go," Cordelia explained. She put a funnel into an amber apothecary bottle and carefully poured the powder into the bottle. "At first he just needed help remembering a few things here and there. Now, I basically run the whole store. He just answers the phone and checks that the prescriptions are right."

"You don't seem very happy working here," Fred pointed out.

"Well would you be if you got hired on for one thing and ended up doing way, way more? _Without_ the additional pay, I should add."

"Has anything... happened here recently? Any customers getting upset or threats from anyone?"

"Well _of course_ customers get upset. People get upset when they can't get their medicines, and they see us as the thing standing in their way," Cordelia said.

"Like, do you know of anyone who particularly dislikes Mr. Jackson?" Shaggy asked.

"No, no. Everyone loves Mr. Jackson," Cordelia said, rolling her eyes.

"Except you..."

"I don't... I don't _dislike_ him per se, but I'm certainly not happy that he absolutely adores the new girl he hired earlier this month while he barely gives me a passing glance. I'm not asking for much, you know but... Like the other day. He tells me that he thinks his memory is doing better because the new girl is asking him all these questions about different medicines and they have nice long chats, and meanwhile I'm here doing _real_ work, and any question I ask him is stupid or uncalled for."

Fred, Shaggy, and Daphne looked to one another.

"Well, we won't keep you any longer," Fred said. "Do you mind if we look around some? We won't bother you. We promise."

"I don't care," Cordelia waved them away. "I'm almost done with this anyways, so I'm gonna have to leave to deliver it to them."

"Like, is it legal to fill prescriptions when the pharmacist isn't here?" Shaggy wondered aloud. Cordelia looked affronted.

"My work is good and I don't need Mr. Jackson or anyone else to tell me otherwise, you understand?"

And with that, Cordelia capped the bottle she was using, and shook the mixture hard. She swept the rest of the glassware and bottles onto the tray and carried it back into the small room.

"Like... she didn't answer my question..." Shaggy said slowly.

"I don't think it's legal, but I'm not sure," Fred shook his head. "But if it is, she clearly had no problem breaking the law."

"Let's look around more and see if there's anything else we can find."

They split up, all taking different corners of the store. Shaggy ordered Scooby to the front of the store, in case any of the dust Velma had mentioned was still on the floor near the pharmacy.

"You know what's odd?" Fred stated as he approached the area Daphne was investigating.

"Hmm?"

"Not a single person has said anything about the possibility of robbery."

Daphne turned to him, her brow furrowed.

"Explain."

"Well... a, a pharmacy handles all kinds of medicine right? Well, what is this was all an elaborate ruse to... to you know, rob the place?"

"But then why dress up like a phantom, you know? Why not... why not just use a gun, or wait until they're not here you know?" Daphne offered. Fred shrugged.

She put a hand under the counter and fumbled for a latch. There was a soft _click_ and the walkthrough portion of the counter unlocked. Daphne lifted it and walked through.

"Do you see anything back there?" Shaggy called from up front.

"Nothing yet," Fred called back.

Daphne set to work, shuffling bottles and tubs around on the shelves behind the counter. There were several bottles marked with an "x", but it seemed that it only served to show which were open and which were not. She checked the drawers, the register, and the cubbies full of prescription bags before disappearing into the back room.

Up front, Shaggy and Scooby were not having very much luck. In order to see anything at all, they had to dig through a layer or two of debris. Shaggy picked up an open thing of gauze, which had managed to roll halfway down the aisle. He wound it back up, until it was back in a neat roll.

He looked down and realized that the roll had dragged a few pieces of debris with it as he wound it back up. He squatted down to get a better look.

A few Flintstone's vitamins littered the floor, a broken bottle not far away, and Shaggy could smell the faint smell of something strong nearby. He wasn't sure what it was, but it gave him vivid flashbacks of being at home sick in bed. As well, there were a few price markers, and an ad for Tylenol. Shaggy swept them aside to see what the final paper on the very bottom was.

"Like guys, come see this."

Fred waved to Daphne, who was in the back room shuffling through more shelves. They caught up with Shaggy, who was standing in the littered aisle staring at a sheet of paper in his hand.

"What'd you find?"

Shaggy showed them the paper.

"Dear Mr. William Jackson, your request to upgrade your current insurance plan on _Jackson's Pharmacy 1394 Gardenia Rd. Coolsville, OH 44256_ has been accepted. Please contact our office to discuss the upgrade procedure including monthly premiums and rates. We look forward to continuing to do business with you. Sincerely, Hosker and Links Home Insurance Company," Fred read aloud.

"Wait..." Daphne paused. "I thought they said his name was Raymond Jackson. Not William."

"Like William is his son. He's like an attorney. He must be in charge of the property," Shaggy explained.

"Why would Mr. Jackson's son upgrade the insurance policy now? There's no way that Mr. Jackson is going to keep this place open that much longer. Attack or not, if Cordelia is right, then he's not going to be in good enough shape to run the place pretty soon."

"There would be no point in doing so, unless he was predicting there was going to be an accident..." Daphne said, biting her lip as she thought.

"Or unless he _knew_ there was going to be an accident," Fred finished. "We better go have a word with Mr. Jackson's son."

"How about you two go do that," Daphne offered. "I'm going to go pay Velma a visit. I want to make sure she's okay, and I kind of feel bad I wasn't able to come last night."

"That's fine. We can drop you off on the way to interrogate William Jackson."

"Like by the way, she knows you were drunk last night," Shaggy added as they made their way out to the Mystery Machine.

"Why does she know that?" Daphne frowned,

"Like she asked."

"She asked if I... if we were drunk?"

"No," Shaggy said, tossing the keys to Fred and hopping in the back seat. "Like she asked why you weren't there, and I told her the truth. Told her you were blitzed beyond all recognition. Like I'm kidding. I didn't tell her that last part. Just that I didn't want to have to take care of you. She understood. Thought given how I found you two this morning wouldn't have been that far off..."

Shaggy chuckled to himself, but neither Fred nor Daphne found it funny.

"So we drank a little too much. It's not the end of the world," Fred stated gruffly. "Besides. I think we learned our lesson. We won't be doing that again."

"Uh huh. That's what they all say..." Shaggy chuckled again. "That's what they all say..."


	4. Chapter 4

"I cannot believe she's ten minutes late for breakfast," Susie Dinkley said frustrated, her arms crossed at the empty chair across from her.

"She's probably just sleeping in," her husband Dale said waving her away as he read his morning paper.

"Well that's not alright. We don't sleep in in this house. We eat breakfast together. I'm going to go wake her up and then give her an earful," Susie said rising to her feet. Dale laid a hand on her arm.

"So she's sleeping in. In my house growing up, the only consequence for missing breakfast was not getting breakfast. I don't think I got breakfast on a Saturday from the time I was twelve until I shipped out for Germany," Dale explained. "It's impressive that it's taken until her nineteenth birthday to miss breakfast, all things considered.

"It's her birthday?"

"It's the twenty-first isn't it?" Dale adjusted his paper so he could see the upper right hand corner. "Nah it's the twentieth. Tomorrow is her birthday."

"Well that doesn't change anything. She needs to get up."

"Good Lord Suzanne, you can't just let the girl her rest, can you?" Dale snapped, throwing his paper on the table. "She can't go to bed early, she can't sleep in late. Hell, she can barely sit down for twenty minutes before you give her some chore to do. I bet she's done more useless tasks-"

"Useless tasks? So it's my fault I want her to contribute to this household?"

"Wash the dishes? Sure that's fine. Alphabetize the bookshelves? Come one, even you have to agree that that is a bit much."

"She's stuyding library sciences!" Susie remarked. "I thought she'd enjoy it."

"Why would she enjoy doing something for a major she didn't even want to study?" Dale asked agitated, his eyebrows raised. Then he shook his head. "No. It's not about that. It's about the fact that you can't let her relax, because to you anytime she spends relaxing is laziness. You don't care if I sit around, or if you sit around, or the next door neighbor's dog sits around, but God forbid our _daughter_ sit around because when _she_ does it, it's laziness. Because God forbid we let the girl with the bad leg rest. God forbid we allow her to look disabled in any way."

Susie flinched at the word "disabled".

"Oh Christ Suzanne, it's not a dirty word. It's a fact of life. After fifteen years, I thought you'd have gotten a little better about it," Dale scowled. He picked up his paper from on top of the butter and resumed his seat at the head of the table.

Susie just stood there for a moment, her arms still crossed. She seemed torn between stomping her way to Velma's room and banging on the door, and taking her seat back at the table.

There was a soft sound from behind her. She turned just as Velma came in through the doorway, her orange robe tied over what appeared to be a University of Coolsville t-shirt. Her glasses sat on her forehead as she rubbed her eyes.

"Kiddo," Dale said, looking from his daughter to his wife and back. "We didn't know you were up."

"You're fifteen minutes late," Susie spat. She crossed past Velma and returned to her seat.

"I know. I'm sorry," Velma muttered, still rubbing her eyes. "I woke up on time but I was having a very difficult time getting out of bed."

"You can go back to bed if you want, dear," Dale offered.

"No, you cannot," Susie snapped, more at Dale than at Velma. "Sit down. The food's getting cold."

Velma did as she was told. She replaced her glasses on her face. Susie, whose jaw was clenched tight as she silently fumed, started spooning eggs onto each of their plates, followed by sausage links, and finally toast.

"How are ya feeling, kiddo?" Dale asked Velma quietly. "You look tired. You sleep okay?"

"Mmhmm," Velma nodded slowly. "I slept great. I don't know why I'm so tired."

"I'd say it was probably all that studying you did the other night,eh?" Dale elbowed his daughter playfully. "Did you _ever_ go to bed?"

"I did," Velma said, smiling slightly. "At three in the morning."

Dale looked playfully disgusted, which made Velma chuckle. Susie glared at the pair of them.

There was a knock at the front door. Susie stared down Velma. Velma momentarily hung her head and went to stand up, but Dale stopped her.

"I've got it."

He stood up and exited through the doorway, leaving the mother and daugher alone in silence at the kitchen table. For a moment, they both just picked at the food on their plates.

"Tell me again why you were late," Susie demanded in a low voice so she could not be overheard in the other room.

"I was having a difficult time getting out of bed."

"Being too tired is no excuse."

"I didn't mean too tired," Velma said, her jaw clenched. "I meant I had a difficult time getting out of bed. Physically. It was hard to get up. I'm really stiff today."

"Velma, your friend Daphne is here," Dale called from the other room. Velma sat her fork down next to her plate.

"May I be excused?" she muttered to her mother.

"Yes. But know we are not done with this conversation," Susie hissed as Dale returned to the kitchen.

Velma nodded, doing her best to hide the disdain she felt for her mother. She rose from her chair and followed her father out into the living room.

Daphne lit up upon seeing Velma, and if Velma was being honest with herself, it was the best feeling in the world.

"I'll leave you two to chat," Dale said quietly, smiling as he left the two friends alone.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Daphne said, pulling Velma into a bonebreaking hug. "I'm sorry I wasn't there last night. I... I wasn't feeling very good."

"Oh yeah," Velma mumbled as her face was held fast against Daphne's shoulder. Daphne released her. "I, uh, I heard you guys were... celebrating."

"Yeah, we were. I don't know what it was exactly that we were drinking, but it was simultaneously the best and worst night of my life," Daphne smiled sheepishly. Then she frowned. "Not worse than yours though I'm sure. How are you? What happened?"

"Uh... hold on," Velma mumbled, glancing backwards for a moment.

She waved Daphne towards the couch and chairs on the other side of the room, far from the doorway to the kitchen where Velma was sure Susie was doing her best to listen. Daphne looked confused for a moment, but crossed the room nonetheless. She took a seat on the plastic covered couch, letting Velma to take her favorite place in the armchair closest to the bookshelf.

"Well I'm sure Shaggy filled you in on most of it," Velma said in a low voice. "On the attack and all."

"Well yes he told us about that, but I'm more interested in what happened to _you_. He said you got cut?" Daphne asked, her volume matching that of her friend.

"Oh yes, I-I did, but that's nothing. Really," Velma shook her head. "What, uh, so what do you think our next step is..."

"Tell me what happened," Daphne demanded.

Velma bit her lip. She weighed the consequences for a moment before sighing. She untied and opened her robe to reveal a t-shirt and bright red athletic shorts with white piping. On her left thigh, about two and a half inches above her knee was a neatly sutured cut. It ran horizontally from just inside her thigh to about midway across. Daphne looked at it for a moment, her brow furrowing the longer she observed. Her eyes moved from the cut down to the bruising around her knee.

"What caused it?"

"My, uh, my leg brace," Velma muttered, closing her robe to prevent her from staring any longer.. "I fell when it came after me and I guess I twisted funny. When I woke up, the metal was broken and I was bleeding."

"And your knee?"

"Uh, yes," Velma twitched the fabric so it covered the injury. "I think I twisted that too."

"I'm glad you went to the hospital at least," Daphne muttered, sitting back. "Shaggy said you were going to take care of it yourself."

"I, uh... I did take care of it myself..." Velma said slowly.

"You mean you... did that?" Daphne said in disbelief, pointing at the now-covered cut on Velma's leg.

"Yes..." Velma nodded, slightly taken aback by Daphne's disbelief.

"Didn't it hurt?"

"Well..." Velma said slowly, her brow furrowing. "No. It didn't."

"I know this probably seems like a silly question," Daphne averted her gaze. "But, like... it does... hurt, right? Like it, like you can feel pain in it...right?"

"What? Oh, oh yes," Velma nodded quickly, her brow still furrowed as she thought. "But it didn't hurt last night. And now that I think about it... nothing hurt. At all. I mean... not my leg, my knee, my head. It... nothing hurt until this morning, but I don't understand why..."

"Did you take anything last night?"

Velma shook her head.

"Once Shaggy brought me home, I went and cleaned myself up, took care of the cut, and went to bed. I was exhausted."

"You seemed fine when I left you at the bus stop. If anything, you seemed _more_ energetic than usual," Daphne looked up as she recalled the events of the previous day. "And you weren't there very long, were you?"

"No," Velma shook her head again. Then she froze. "Wait. The attack. The powder. Whatever it was, it stopped the pain and it put me to sleep."

"Of course," Daphne nodded. "The powder. It must have been some kind of drug. Some kind of painkiller. We need to get you to the hospital so they can run tests."

The chair Velma as sitting in slid backwards a few inches as Velma jerked back against it.

"Oh no, oh no no no," Velma said, shaking her head frantically. "I don't do hospitals."

"Okay, but think about it. How much do you think you inhaled?" Daphne said, sitting forward towards Velma.

"I-I tried to hold my breath, but I ran out of air," Velma admitted.

"Well just think about how much Mr. Jackson got. I mean he's in a coma. Maybe if the hospital has those new drug tests, you could get one and the doctors could find out what it was and they can help Mr. Jackson better."

"Why can't they just do it on him?" Velma asked tensely.

"Well, I guess they could," Daphne said slowly. "But it might be helpful for you to since you're awake and can explain how you've been feeling too."

"I-I just can't go to the hospital. Please," Velma said softly. "You... do you remember back in October when you told us about the nightmare you have sometimes? The one where you nearly drowned? Well I have a nightmare like that too but mine takes place in a hospital. I would never have ask you to go swimming. Please don't ask me to go a hospital."

There was silence.

"You're right," Daphne said quietly. "But I ...And I wouldn't blame you if you don't want to because I understand that level of fear. I really do. But if someone were dying and I had to risk drowning to save their life, I would. I wouldn't like it. I wouldn't be happy about it. And I'd most definitely cry about it afterwards, but I'd do it."


	5. Chapter 5

"Where _is_ this place?" Fred moaned as they drove farther and farther out into the country.

"Like you're the one with the map, man."

"Well I know that. By the way, take a left up here at the intersection," Fred said, pointing at an upcoming stop sign. "I would just imagine Bill Jackson would live a little closer to town is all."

Shaggy turned the wheel of the Mystery Machine down the country lane. Out of nowhere, a huge mansion grew out of the white fields. Shaggy glanced at Fred, who nodded. He turned the wheel once again and pulled down the very long driveway towards the house.

The mansion was by far the largest house in the town, or it should be said, _outside_ the town, as the mansion was a good twenty minutes outside of town. It was shaped like a large L, with a turret center and two large wings coming out from it. The mansion was dark against the light grey of the sky and the white of the snow. One solemn light in the turret was lit.

Shaggy pulled around the drive to the front door and parked. He and Fred climbed down from the van. Shaggy pulled one of the back doors open and Scooby jumped out. They walked around to meet Fred on the other side of the van.

"I sure hope a house this big means he has a big family," Fred said as Shaggy knocked on the front door. "Because this feels like a murderer's house to me."

Scooby gulped. Shaggy scratched him behind the ears, but he was just as scared. He knocked again. For a second, Shaggy considered leaving. But then, just as he was ready to offer this to Fred, the large wooden door was pulled open.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Bill Jackson asked angrily.

"Mr. Jackson?"

"Yes, yes. What do you want?" he repeated. Then his eyes grew wide. He pointed a finger at Shaggy. "You. You were there last night. Why are you here today?"

"Like we were hired by the police to look into the attack that happened last night. We'd like to have a word."

Bill looked from Shaggy to Fred and back. Then he crossed his arms and stepped aside to let them in.

"Only for a few minutes. I have a lot of work to do."

"Did you build this house?" Fred asked, looking around as he stepped into the foyer.

"No. It has been in my family since 1840. We were amongst the first settlers to arrive after the Couhls and the Brentons. When my mother died, my father moved into town to be closer to the store. My seven brothers and sisters and I all parted ways a long time ago, so now the house in mine."

"Like has there been any word on your father?" Shaggy asked. He stuck close to Fred for fear of accidentally calling any spirits out of the drywall.

"He is in a coma," Bill explained as he lef them into the den where he had been working. "The doctors say it could be a few days or it could be permanent. I guess we will just have to wait.

"You don't seem too... concerned over your father's condition."

Bill turned to the two men, his arms still crossed.

"My father is seventy-two. He fought in the Great War, came home, got married, went to school, and has practiced pharmacy ever since. He had eight children and a marraige that lasted fifty years. His memory has been declining ever since my mother died seven years ago, as has his health. This is not his first hospital visit as of late. He has had a good long life. Forgive me if I do not weep that he dies as an old man."

Bill turned back to his desk and resumed his seat. Shaggy and Fred looked at each other, both of their eyebrows raised as high as possible.

"What of your friend?" Bill said, pen in hand as he turned his head back to Shaggy and Fred.

"What?"

"Your friend. The... the one who was there last night? Is she alright... was she hurt?"

"Uh," Shaggy frowned. "Well like she had a cut and I think she hurt her knee, but like she's fine. She said she would be okay though, so like... no worries."

"See that's where you're wrong," Bill raised a finger at Shaggy again. "They all say they're fine. But once the pain sets in, once those hospital bills come in... That's when they sue. I knew I was right in writing up all those papers last night. I knew it."

"We promise you, sir, she would never do that to you or Mr. Jackson," Fred stated. But then he shook his head. "But that's not why we're here. We're here about the letter."

"Letter? What letter?"

"This letter," Shaggy said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. "It says that you like upgraded the insurance plan on your father's pharmacy very recently. We wanted to talk to you about it."

"What are you insurance brokers?" Bill said, with a laugh. "So I upgraded the policy. What of it?"

"Well, it's suspicious that this letter is dated... here let me see that," Fred said, reaching towards Shaggy who handed him the paper. "It's dated December 1st. Kind of funny how close that is to the 19th, when the store got destroyed in a,uh, a freak attack."

"What are you implying, young man?" Bill asked, rising to his feet.

"I'm just saying it's a little odd... _sir_ ," Fred said.

Bill walked up to Fred, stopping only once they were almost nose to nose. He stood at exactly the same height as Fred, though was about half of the width of him. Fred puffed up his chest, his arms behind his back as if he were a private standing against his commanding officer.

"Well it wouldn't be a little odd if you knew the mistakes my father has made in his old age. Leaving a hot plate on overnight. Broken glassware. Letting the neighborhood kids in after school every day. I'd come over to find a broken window, a ripped up stool. Not to mention all the pills that 'disappeared' from his stock. I told him that woman he hired was no good, but he didn't believe in firing people unless he knew for certain that they were doing something wrong," Bill snatched the letter from Fred's hand. "I had to fight and claw my way to get a better insurance policy. Practically threatened to sue if they didn't get me better coverage."

Bill's eyes grew wide as his face grew red with anger.

"You think I did it for the insurance money, don't you? Well I didn't. I have an alibi. I was in Cleveland all day. I hired a kid straight out of law school who can interview a lot better than he can prosecute. He was up at the Cuyahoga County Courthouse turning in evidence to a judge. There was some... disconnect, some problem with the labeling. Made it look like he tampered with evidence, so I had to get up there and dig him out of that. Had to make sure the case didn't get thrown out and make sure his ass didn't get disbarred. I didn't get home until 7:00. Gave me just enough time to take a shower and get ready for bed when I got a call saying telling me my father and his store were attacked. I'll give you any names you want; the public defender, the judge, the idiot himself. They'll confirm I was with them. I didn't do it. You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"I said do you understand?" Bill repeated louder.

"YES, SIR," Fred yelled back.

"Good. Not get the hell out of my house."


	6. Chapter 6

"I promise I won't let them do anything to hurt you," Daphne reassured Velma as they sat in the small plain hospital room.

"Well considering we're here so they can take my blood, I'd say you're not doing a very good job," Velma muttered.

She sat on the hospital bed, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to block out the sights and sounds of the hospital. Daphne sat on a chair next to the bed.

"I mean beyond that. I won't let them do anything _beyond_ that."

Velma opened her eyes and shot Daphne a look. Daphne gave her a small smile.

"And then once we're done, we can go meet the boys for lunch at Sharon's Diner," Daphne offered cheerfully. She frowned at the continued look on Velma's face. "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to keep it light. When you said you were scared of the hospital, I didn't realize it was this bad."

"What did you think I meant?" Velma said through clenched teeth.

"Well you equated it to my fear of drowning and while I don't like swimming, I don't panic while I'm sitting on the beach. We haven't even talked to the doctor yet," Daphne shrugged.

"I have many words to say to you but I'm trying not to pass out," Velma muttered.

Just then the door to the room opened, causing both girls to jump. A doctor, a young man wearing a blue striped tie and a white coat, entered carrying a clipboard. He was followed by a nurse in a white dress and hat. Velma immediately recoiled at the presence of the nurse.

"Alright. Which one of you is Velma Dinkley?" he asked, his head swiveling between Daphne and Velma.

"She is, sir," Daphne answered.

The doctor sat down on a short wheeled stool halfway in between the bed and the chair.

"My name is Dr. Todd. What are we in for?" he asked, directing his question at Velma.

"She's here for a drug test," Daphne explained. The doctor looked back to Daphne and frowned. "She was attacked last night by the same thing that attacked your patient Raymond Jackson. She inhaled something that put her to sleep and stopped her pain. We want to find out what is was so that you might help him better and help her better."

Dr. Todd looked to Velma. He pushed his stool over to the bed and raised a hand to take hers. She recoiled again, moving even further back on the bed.

"No physical exam," Daphne stated sternly. "Just the blood test."

"Can she talk for herself?" Dr. Todd barked at Daphne.

"No physical exam. Just the blood test," Velma repeated in the same tone as Daphne.

"Thank you. Was that so hard?" Dr. Todd shook his head, then turned back to Velma. "That's fine. But I have to take your vital signs. That's not negotiable."

Velma considered this for a moment.

"That's the blood pressure and temperature, right?" Velma said slowly. Dr. Todd nodded.

"Blood pressure, temperature, heart rate, and breathing rate," Dr. Todd confirmed.

Velma paused again. Then, shakily and with measured breath, she put out her right arm.

"I need you to take your coat off," he said, doing his best not to shout. Velma nodded and removed her jacket before offering her arm again.

Dr. Todd took her blood pressure and then her temperature. Daphne could see Velma flinch as he moved to listen to her breathing.

"All the vital signs look normal. I'll go prepare the test, while Nurse Kaiser collects your payment for the services today."

Dr. Todd nodded stiffly and then left. The nurse, now with her own clipboard, stepped forwards.

"The services today add up to $9.70," she read from her chart.

"I-I don't have that kind of money," Velma said nervously.

"Well, do you have insurance? That can offset the cost," the nurse explained.

"I-I," Velma's brow furrowed. "I don't know if I have insurance or not."

"Well then it's $9.70," the nurse repeated putting out a hand.

"Here."

Velma looked up from her empty wallet to see Daphne handing over a ten dollar bill to the nurse. From what Velma could see from her vantage point, it was not the only bill in Daphne's purse.

"Give me one moment," the nurse instructed. She turned to exit, leaving Daphne and Velma alone.

"Well that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Oh no it was fine," Velma said, taking deep breaths. "Will you please tell the part of my brain that controls fear? Because it hasn't gotten the message quite yet."

"I will ignore your rudeness because you are terrified," Daphne said, crossing her arms. Part of her was truly miffed by the comment, but moreso she felt awful for putting Velma in this situation.

"I will pay you back," Velma said slowly. "It might... It might take me a while, but I will pay you back."

"You don't have to."

"No. I do."

"No you don't," Daphne repeated. "I wouldn't make you pay for something I forced you into."

Dr. Todd opened the door before Velma could say anything else. He resumed his seat on the stool. Nurse Kaiser set down a tray on a small table next to him. This time it was Daphne who recoiled. On the tray was a shiny new syringe with a needle about an inch long next to a cotton swab and a vial of dark yellow liquid.

"Please hold out your arms," Dr. Todd requested.

Velma did as instructed. Dr. Todd pulled a pair of glasses out of his coat pocket and put them on. He leaned forward to observe her veins more closely before pointing at her right arm. She nodded and slid the sleeve of her sweater up. Dr. Todd put one hand around her upper arm and his eyes grew wide.

"Huh. Are you an arm wrestler? Because if you aren't you certainly could be," Dr. Todd said as he swabbed the iodine just under her elbow.

"Uh... thank you?"

Velma took a deep breath and closed her eyes as Dr. Todd inserted the needle into her vein. Her face was contorted in pain for a second, but then it fell, only to be replaced with a look of confusion. She opened one eye and then both. She looked thoroughly confused as Dr. Todd finished extracting the blood. He placed a cotton ball over the vein as he pulled out the syringe.

"That was... that was very easy," she breathed, with a slight chuckle. "I was expecting that to be like the last time someone poked me with a needle."

"Yeah and what was that for?" Dr. Todd smiled.

"A spinal tap."

Dr. Todd's face fell.

"Dear God."

"What's a spinal tap?" Daphne asked slowly, breaking the silence that fell as Dr. Todd exchanged looks with his nurse.

"It's a test in which they insert a needle into the spine to remove cerebrospinal fluid to test for presence of certain viruses," Dr. Todd explained. Velma nodded. "Well we should have the results by tomorrow, but a positive result might require a little further testing. To determine exactly what drug it was."

Dr. Todd handed Velma a business card as Nurse Kaiser handed Daphne her her change. They exchanged pleasantries and then the two medical providers left. Daphne and Velma stood and put on her coat.

"Can I assume that the-the spinal tap is one of the reasons that you don't like hospitals?" Daphne muttered as they climbed into her car out in the parking lot.

"It is in the top three," Velma muttered as she lowered herself into the passenger's seat. "At least you could understand what he meant when he said it. I was five and much more concerned with why my leg fell asleep and wasn't waking up."

They sat in silence during the whole car ride from the hospital to downtown. It was a longer ride than it should have been. Snow had been plowed only on the main roads, which meant the streets connecting the roads were slow going. What normally would have taken them only ten minutes took nearly forty-five minutes, with parking scarce anywhere close to the diner.

"Why are there so many people here?" Daphne said as she and Velma squeezed their way into the packed diner. Both were breathing hard, having fought the ice covered sidewalks for three blocks just to get to the diner.

Over a dozen college students were packed into the tiny waiting area. They could barely hear anything over the chatter. Daphne stood on her toes, trying to see over the heads of the other students but it was no use. Or at least she thought it was no use before she noticed the blue and white embroidered with a yellow 48 in the crowd ahead of them. Waving Velma forward, she pushed her way through to Fred.

"Oh hey," he greeted. He nudged to Shaggy, who greeted them with a nod before waving down a middle aged woman balancing a tray of food on her arm.

"Like our other two are here Sharon," he called over the noise of the other students.

"Alright good. Let me get the corner booth ready for ya. They're paying their check right now."

"Why is it so busy?" Daphne asked.

"Snowstorm," Sharon replied. "Delayed or cancelled a bunch of flights outta Cleveland. Most of em got rescheduled for tonight. We're the only place open on acccount of the snow, so we're pretty packed. Hold on. I'll be right back."

Sharon held up a finger and made her way back to the back of the diner.

"How was William Jackson?" Daphne muttered to Fred as Sharon led them back to the now-cleared booth. Fred slid in on one side followed by Shaggy, meeting Daphne in the middle who was followed by Velma. Scooby, it seemed, had been dropped off at home.

"Suspicious. He didn't seem at all phased by the fact that his father had been attacked," Fred said as he passed out menus.

"What of the insurance?"

"Like he said he had updated it because his dad kept making mistakes and like breaking things," Shaggy mentioned.

"Oh and Daph you'll find this interesting... Bill Jackson said pills had been disappearing from the store. You thought it could be related to a robbery, right? Well the younger Mr. Jackson thought it might be Cordelia, the pharmacy assistant."

"Yeah. Like he didn't trust her at all," Shaggy said, snapping his menu shut and setting it aside. "He insisted that he had an alibi but I like want to look into that more."

A wiry kid approached their table. He was built a lot like Shaggy, tall and thin, but he had dark circles under his eyes.

"What can I get you guys?"

"I'll like have two jumbo pancakes and a plate of sausage. Oh, and like three eggs scrambled with cheddar cheese."

"I'll have the BLT with fries.

"Patty melt, no tomato."

"And just coffee for me thanks."

"I understand," the kid whispered to Velma as he leaned over to grab the menus. "Everything here is ridiculously expensive."

"I'm just not hungry," Velma said, frowning. The kid shrugged and walked away.

"Are you really not hungry or-" Daphne began.

"I'm really not hungry," Velma said cutting her off. "My stomach still isn't quite settled from the hospital. I don't want to push it."

Daphne nodded, though she was not thoroughly convinced.

The gang chatted as best they could in the noisy diner. College students kept coming in, though those already seated never seemed to leave. Suprisingly, their food was still out in only twenty minutes.

"There you go," Sharon said as she passed out the plates from her tray. "Sorry it took so long."

The gang all shook their heads and thanked her profusely for her work. A minute later she still felt tired, but the kids had lifted her spirit. But just as she turned to go get the next order, her face quickly changed from tired and happy to flat out irate.

"HEY. You didn't think I'd see you sneak in through the crowd," she shouted across the room. The chatter stopped. "You know you're not allowed in here. Get out."

"Come on Sharon please I apologized-" a young man in a dark jacket started.

"I don't care. You know the rules. Get out of here. And take your friends with you."

"But-"

"OUT. GET OUT."

The man frowned and waved at a group of guys to follow him out. The gang, as well as all the other diner patrons were all silent. Sharon ignored this, and just shook her head. She turned back to the gang as the students started whispering before returning to their previous clamor.

"Who was that?" Fred asked.

"I don't know his name. But he knows he's not supposed to be in here. He broke the rule. There's only one rule: you cannot come in drunk. Hungover is fine. I mean we're a twenty-four hour diner. I get it. I don't care if you're hungover or you're sick or even if you have a fight outside the door and come in with a black eye and a bloody nose. I don't care. But you cannot come in here drunk because that's when something goes wrong. And guess what? The last time him and his buddies were in here something went wrong," Sharon said in a low voice only the gang could hear. "They all came in drunk. Like pass out drunk, and one of them did. Just passed out on the floor. And one of them peed all over the bathroom. When I told them they had to leave that one got angry and broke every plate on the table. I called the cops. He came in a couple days later and apologized and offered to pay for everything. I took his money but told him we wasn't allowed back. And I meant it. I've spoken to several shopkeepers around here and it's happened to a lot of them. Him and his little group of buddies."

Sharon shook her head and turned. Within moments she had disappeared back into the kitchen. The diner was again so loud that it seemed nothing had happened at all.

"When the phantom came into Mr. Jackson's shop last night, Mr. Jackson told them they weren't welcome here," Velma whispered to the table.

"I think we have to go find that kid," Daphne said, bunching up her napkin and throwing it on the table. She moved to scoot Velma out of the booth when the lights flickered.

"I think he found us."

The lights went out. It was barely a change, as the large windows in the front of the store let in a lot of light, but it was enough to scare the patrons. Several people screamed, but no one moved. Then there was a long loud moan. Everyone in the diner looked around frantically trying to find the source of the commotion. Then there was a particularly loud shriek as a dark hooded figure appeared to rise out of the ground in the center of the restarurant.

Patrons started darting in every direction, knocking over chairs and bumping into tables. The hooded figure reached into their cloak and pulled out a handful of the same white powder as before. There was the sound of someone blowing very hard and several people running by dropped to the ground, a faint sparkling cloud dissolving around them. Those who were running by but had not been hit with the powder immediately slapped hands over their noses and mouths as they struggled to get by.

Some students started throwing plates and glassware at the figure. No one, it seemed, could hit them. Soon broken bits of ceramic and glass littered the floor around. Those still running who hadn't been hit with the powder now found themselves dodging flying objects and trying not to get cut on the debris.

Fred tried to climb up onto the bench and jump over, but they were in too tightly. Velma and Shaggy struggled to get out to let the others out but by the time they did, the figure collapsed into a pile of robes.

Fred leapt over two or three people on the ground to get to the robes. They were empty and the nearest people were three feet away, all unconscious, covered in the phantom's dust.

"How?" Fred shouted, slamming a fist on a nearby table. "How did they escape? How the hell did they disappear?"

"I don't know but we don't have time to find that out right now," Daphne said quickly as she rushed towards the victims. "Call an ambulance."

Fred did as he was told. Velma and Shaggy joined Daphne kneeling at the side of those who had been hurt, though they too had to be careful around the debris and the faint lingering cloud of dust.

"Yes Sharon's Diner. There's about... I don't know about seven, ten people down? No I don't know where they went. They just... they just disappeared," Fred said into the handset of the phone near the cash register.

He gave a little more explanation to the person on the other end of the phone before hanging up.

"They'll be here shortly," Fred said, crossing his arms. "They said in the mean time make sure we clear a path and make sure that there's no debris on them."

Velma, Shaggy, and Daphne nodded and started shifting debris. A few other patrons who had decided to hide started crawling out and assisting them. Shaggy attended to Sharon, who was in front of the lunch counter nursing a bruise on her forehead.

The gang stayed long enough to give their statements, but all felt it would be best to revisit the scene for clues once everyone had been taken to the hospital. They decided to wait in the van, which was parked right outside the diner and caused both Velma and Daphne to glare at the boys. They couldn't even see their car from the diner entrance.

"I don't get it," Fred said, leaning his head against the steering wheel. "We were staring right at it. How did it disappear? How?"

"I don't know," Daphne said quietly, rubbing a hand across his back. "But as soon as they've taken everyone in we'll go back and check."

"Like at least we could dial 911 immediately," Shaggy offered. "Instead of letting them lay there unconscious."

"That's true. And I know we'll solve it and all, but I just don't get how they did it. How could they disappear in plain sight?"

"Well," Velma began, biting her lip as she considered. "I hate to say this because it sounds so silly... but is it out of the realm of possibility to say this might actually be an angry spirit?"


End file.
